


Dogs

by SharkAria



Series: Dogs Don't Eat Chocolate [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic, Humor, Romance, Veterinary Clinic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 14:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkAria/pseuds/SharkAria
Summary: Sansa, Sandor, and the Dreadfort Emergency Veterinary Care Clinic.





	Dogs

I. **Dreadfort**

“Oh, Sandor!” Sansa sighed, leaning against Sandor’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Sandor looked down at the head of his friend -- girlfriend -- person he spent most of his time with -- whatever -- who had left her family’s own Christmas party to spend time with him at Dreadfort Emergency Veterinary Care Clinic. He clenched his teeth as he said, “That shit fraternity behind my house tossed old Halloween candy over the fence. Trinity got into it before I could pull her snout away.” His hands shook in his lap.

Sansa placed her slim fingers over Sandor’s clenched fist. “Where is she now?” 

He gripped her fingertips hard. “The vet tech took her straight into the back. Said they’d have to run tests and that I can’t be in there with her.” He kicked at the worn brown carpet. “ _Fuck!_ ”

II. **Dragonstone**

An hour passed, but it felt like fifty. The waiting room suffocated Sandor, with its faux wood paneling, its dingy plastic chairs, its locked glass cabinet filled with deworming medication samples, its sign on the plexiglas reception window stating “PREMISES ARE UNDER 24 HOUR VIDEO SURVEILLANCE. LESS THAN $50 IN CASH ON HAND. KETAMINE LOCKED IN SAFE AT ALL TIMES.”

“It’s not much of a way to spend Christmas Eve,” Sansa reflected.

“Sorry.” Sandor mentally berated himself for drawing Sansa away from her own plans. He placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I shouldn’t have --”

“I meant for poor Trinity,” Sansa replied lightly. She gave Sandor a smile, but he could see the worry in her eyes. “I’m perfectly happy to be here with you.”

From the corner of the room, a slouching teenager murmured something and tittered to herself. Her bleached, braided hair intertwined with the tail of the giant brown lizard perched on her shoulder. Sandor sneered her, but narrowed her eyes at him without fear. 

Sandor didn’t need judgement from some stranger, not about his scars or his speech or the company he kept with Sansa. Not tonight. “Something you wanted to say to us, miss?” he snarled.

“I wasn’t talking to _you,_ ” she replied imperiously, then snickered again. She stroked her pet’s ridged back, and it blinked slowly in response. “I told you to mind your own business, Viserion.” Lizard and teen alike possessed the same purplish, reptilian eyes.

“Bearded dragon,” Sansa whispered to Sandor, and Sandor couldn’t help but appreciate that tonight she didn’t admonish him for his unkind tone toward the girl. “Bran had one when he was a kid.” She shivered and snuggled closer to Sandor. “This place gives me the creeps.” 

“Me too,” Sandor replied, wondering if he should pound on the reception window to find out what in the hell was going on with his dog.

III. **The Twins**

Another hour or a hundred passed.

Finally, the interior door opened and out floated the ghoulishly pale man who had admitted Sandor’s dog. He wore blood red scrubs and carried a clipboard gummed up from long-removed tape. “Owners of Trinity, come with me,” he rasped in a near whisper. 

Sandor and Sansa sprang from their seats. In his haste, Sandor bumped into Sansa as they both tried to walk through the narrow doorway. He backed up and let her through, then shouldered his way in behind her. 

The man led them into a miniscule examining room with a slick metal table and grey cabinets and a yellowing asbestos ceiling, but Trinity wasn’t there. Sandor’s stomach heaved and cold sweat slicked the back of his neck. Sansa reached out and grabbed his arm, holding him tightly.

The man glanced down at the clipboard, then back up at Sandor and Sansa. “Dogs,” he said in a dead voice, “ _don’t_ eat chocolate.” And with that pronouncement, he turned on his heel and left the room.

Sandor’s stomach dropped at the words. What the hell did that mean? Was Trinity going to -- ? Sandor was ready to chase the tech down the hall and demand answers, but Sansa gripped Sandor’s forearm with her sweating palms, pulling at his coarse hair and keeping him in place. 

Before Sandor could pull away from Sansa, a short, heavy woman wearing a white coat entered the room. She had shiny dark hair and dewy pink skin and a red-lipped smile that would turn any man’s head. “Hello, my friends! I’m Dr. Frey-Bolton,” she said, music in her voice, but then her sculpted eyebrows furrowed on her forehead. “Oh, I can see from your alarmed faces that my Roosey failed to provide you with sufficient information about your pup.” She _tsked_ like an indulgent parent as she bridged her plump fingers together. “You needn’t fear a thing. Your sweet Trinity is going to make a swift, full recovery under my care.”

“Oh, what excellent news!” Sansa cried as she gave Sandor a great hug. Sandor hugged her back, right there in front of the doctor, so great was his relief.

The veterinarian grinned, her unnaturally white teeth sparkling. “Your poor girl is going to have a bit of an unpleasant night here with me and Roose, what with the medications and the kennel. But lots of snuggles will fix everything once you pick her up tomorrow. No treats though!” she warned, her incisors gleaming under the fluorescent light.

Sandor’s initial happiness drained away with her words. “That technician? _He’s_ going to take care of my dog?” 

Dr. Frey-Bolton smiled again, deep dimples showing in her cheeks. “You needn’t worry, my dears. Roose is an able animal caretaker. The way he treats people, on the other hand --” she shrugged, and the corners of her mouth turned upward. “He needs me to smooth out his edges a bit. Perhaps you know something about that.” She winked, and Sandor felt his face turning red.

“Perhaps,” Sandor mumbled under his breath as he stared over Sansa’s head. 

Sansa didn’t say anything, but she squeezed Sandor hard around the waist.

IV. **The Red Keep**

“That was an interestingly matched pair,” Sansa remarked, her breath coming out in steaming puffs in the frigid night air. The mercury vapor street lamp illuminated her face in electric green as she leaned against her car.

“Huh,” Sandor grunted, his thoughts split between his dog and Sansa’s words. Between the agonizing wait and his relief at hearing the good news, he could hardly remember leaving the vet’s office and walking into the parking lot. Sansa had had to convince him to come with her, had to remind him that he couldn’t help Trinity by dozing off in that wretched waiting room. “You mean the blonde and the dragon lizard?”

Sansa chuckled as she blew into her hands and rubbed her palms together. “No. The veterinarian and her employee.”

“Oh. Them.” Sandor didn’t much want to think about the pale vet tech and the cheerful doctor making eyes at one another while his poor dog recovered. 

“Some people might say the same about us,” Sansa added, her cheeks growing pink. She gazed down at the damp asphalt.

Sandor looked at the crown of her head. “Some might,” he mumbled. He also wasn’t sure he much wanted to think about what others might say about his relationship with Sansa.

Sansa stepped close to him, close enough for him to encircle her in his arms. “Let me come home with you tonight. I can help you pick up Trinity in the morning.” _You shouldn’t be alone,_ Sandor imagined her thinking but not daring to say to him.

“I’ll be fine by myself,” Sandor murmured over Sansa’s head, responding to what she didn’t say.

Sansa placed one hand on the wool sleeve of his coat and reached up to to caress the scarred side of his face. “I don't wish to presume tell you what to do, but it is clear you could use my company. I’m already on your side of town. Please let me go with you, Sandor.” Her voice was both insistent and pleading. She knew what he needed. She always seemed to.

Sandor let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He leaned down and closed his eyes and brushed his lips against Sansa’s. “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

V. **Winterfell**

Trinity bounded around the cramped living room, slowing down long enough only to nuzzle her furry black snout against Sandor’s face. The chipper mutt gave no sign that she had spent a miserable night at the emergency vet. 

Sansa had gone into the back yard without explanation when they’d all arrived home, and she’d been out there for a while. It didn’t make much sense for her to be spending so much time out in the cold, with the slushy remains of last week’s snowfall and a dozen or more piles of dog shit that Sandor hadn’t picked up. Which reminded Sandor --

“Come on, girl, time for you to go out,” he called to Trinity. 

The dog loped enthusiastically to the back door and shot out into the cold when Sandor swung it open. 

Sandor walked out after her and stepped onto the cracked concrete patio. He saw Sansa out on the patchy dead grass, crouching in her snow boots. The way she bent over gave him an excuse to admire her backside, covered though it was by her thick down coat. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Oh!” Sansa gasped, straightening up. In her gloved hand she held the shovel that Sandor used to clean up Trinity’s waste. Her eyes shifted between the shovel and the back fence and Sandor’s face. “Nothing. Well, not nothing, I just -- um --”

Sandor glanced around the yard and noticed that all of the dog poop was gone, but Sansa wasn’t holding a plastic bag. “What are you doing?” he asked again.

Sansa sighed and looked down at her feet, then back up at Sandor, giving him a small, guilty-looking smile. “Since they sent Trinity to the vet, the fraternity members deserve a response from this side of the fence.” She glanced at the dog, who had just finished making another steaming pile on the ground nearby. “Oh, look! Trinity just left an additional ‘response.’ Perhaps you’d like to --?”

Sandor grinned at her. If he hadn’t been certain before, he knew now that his love for Sansa burned with the fire of a thousand suns. “With pleasure.” He took the shovel from her hand and scooped up the poop. As he flung it over the fence, he shouted, “Merry Christmas, boys!”

*_*_*_*_*

[end of part 1]

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn’t fit three black dogs into this story; thus the name Trinity :). Please enjoy the next two installments - I promise no more dog poop!


End file.
